Sacrifice
by sailorpluto1709
Summary: Ivy wakes up chained to a sacrificial altar with hardly any memory of what happened the night before. What happens when the God of Mischief turns up? Loki/OC Myth-verse, not Marvel-verse
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello all! This is the first one-shot I have ever written. This is no more than me experimenting with writing in third-person while I take a break from my longer fics. I got this idea when I was browsing through the archive of the Loki's Dirty Whispers blog on tumblr. If you haven't seen it, and are completely in love with Loki, check it out! It's pretty amazing. And it gave me motivation to write again, which is even better! **

**Let me know what you think and enjoy!**

**Sacrifice **

Ivy groaned as she slowly started regaining consciousness. '_God, what happened?'_ she thought as the pounding in her head started to increase with her growing awareness. The last thing she remembered clearly was the pub her and her friends were visiting while they were staying in this little village. _'I didn't drink _that_ much, did I?' _

Very carefully, she opened her eyes, careful of any impending light. Oddly enough, there was hardly any light at all in the room she was lying in. Blinking a few times to allow her hazel eyes to focus, she took a look around. This was not the bed and breakfast she was staying in. In fact, she didn't recognize her surroundings at all. Becoming more nervous, she took a quick look around. If she didn't know any better, she would have said she was in a temple. Stone columns broke up the expansive space holding up a stone roof. The architecture was beautiful, with the high ceiling and the intricate knot carvings covering almost every available surface. However, that did not help her figure out where she was.

Closing her eyes again, she tried to think back to what happened the previous night. Moving her hand to try and rub the tiredness out of eyes, she was stopped short. Her eyes flying open, she looked above her head. Her hands were shackled above her. She had to lift her head in order to see her feet, but upon inspection they were also shackled to the stone slab she appeared to be lying on. Yanking on the chains that bound her to what she couldn't help but imagine was a sacrificial altar, she tried to choke down the rising panic within her. The chains were not giving an inch. There was also one other detail that she noticed: she was wearing a simple white dress that reached her knees. She has never seen this dress before.

"Okay, okay, stay calm, Ivy," she whispered to herself. Relaxing as much as she could, she let her head rest against the stone and tried to think back to the previous night. She clearly remembered entering the small German town with her friends. Her and her best friends decided to backpack through Europe before the beginning of their college careers. They were a full month in when they happened to stumble on this little town. And boy, was it little. It barely had five hundred residents. Deciding it would be fun to spend the night, they all checked into the only bed and breakfast in town and then went to all of the shops. They met many interesting people, all very kind.

However, everyone they talked to gave them one simple warning: Don't venture outside after dark.

Shrugging it off as local superstition, the girls continued their shopping and eventually stopped at the pub for dinner and a drink. And that's where Ivy's memory seems to have faded. _'Something must have happened. And I _know_ I didn't drink that much.'_ She could remember flashes—talking to a cute local boy who bought her a few drinks, a townsperson speaking to everyone about an angry spirit, laughing with her friends about the ridiculousness of it all.

Oh! Now she could remember: there appeared to be a town meeting going on. Her German was a little rusty, but it appeared to be about some local spirit or deity that was angry. The people of this town still believed in the archaic beliefs, it seemed. Apparently this local spirit was making it so none of the crops would grow and now the cattle and horses were dying before their very eyes. Ivy and her friends hardly paid it any mind: it was just a disease going around due to the lack of crops. At least in their eyes it was. However, when voicing those opinions, they were met with very disdainful looks from the locals.

"You might want to keep those thoughts to yourself," whispered the cute boy—'_that's right! His name was Bill—_before turning back to the town crier.

That proved to be easier said than done for Ivy's friend, Kristen. "But it's probably just a virus. Why should you all be so worried about a trickster that doesn't exist and instead try and find a vaccine or something for the animals?"

The townspeople did not seem to agree with her friend. "I'd recommend minding your own business, outsider," responded the one leading the show.

Before Kristen could respond, Ivy did. "Well, if it's not as simple as finding an antidote, what do you suggest these people do to fix it?"

Smiling a particularly creepy smile at her, he said, "We leave a sacrifice for it. Like our ancestors have done for centuries before us." Looking over the crowded faces, he began speaking to the townsfolk again. "You all know what is required. If we do this, the trickster will move on and leave our village in peace."

"Wow," muttered Kelly, Ivy's other friend. "These people are seriously backwards."

"Just leave it alone, guys," Ivy told them. "This isn't our town or our ways. We don't have to concern ourselves."

Shrugging nonchalantly, the girls went back to their food. Ivy couldn't help but keep an ear on the discussions raging around in the suddenly loud room. It appeared they were arguing over what would be the sacrifice. It appeared none of them wanted to give up… something. The chatter was too loud to really make out what was needed. However, the leader of this mad discussion kept staring over at her and her friends, and it was making her slightly nervous. Deciding she had enough, she leaned over to her friends and told them she was going to go back to the inn and rest. Then she left.

What happened after that, she doesn't remember.

Sighing at her lack of memories, she reopens her eyes and looks around the room for clues. She is obviously not getting out of these chains anytime soon, so she would have to rely on what she could see. The wall immediately on her right appears to be depicting some…thing. There are two torches that are lit, illuminating the mural in flickering light. She doesn't really know what to make of it. There is what she assumes to be a man carved in the middle with fire sprouting from his hands. A horse, a wolf, and a snake circle around him. More of the intricate knots frame the mural. The color seems to have faded with time. Looking elsewhere in the expansive room reveals little else. However, something just seemed so familiar about that image.

Continuing to stare at it, a niggling memory peeks through her thoughts. Her grandmother was born and raised in Germany before moving to America for a new life. She always told Ivy the stories of her homeland, usually in her native German, which is why Ivy could speak German. Suddenly, a piece clicked into place in Ivy's mind and her eyes widened.

"No way," she whispers, looking back around the room before her eyes landed back on the mural. "Loki."

This was a temple to Loki, the fire god of Norse legend. _'How in the hell is this place still around?'_ Suddenly, everything clicks into place in Ivy's mind. In ancient times, when the crops were being destroyed by forces that were not understood, the people of that area would leave sacrifices to their gods. Usually it was something like a chicken, goat, cattle, or even a horse. Only, rarely, when the situation was really dire, some would leave people as the sacrifice. Typically young girls.

"You have got to be kidding me," Ivy says to the empty room. Now everything makes sense. The townspeople were looking for someone to sacrifice to their local deity. Only no one wanted to give up their own daughter. '_How convenient that three young strangers walk into their village right when they need a sacrifice.'_ Some men must have grabbed her and drugged her when she was walking back to the inn. Shaking her head at her stupidity, she looks back up at the shackles. She can pretty much guarantee that no one was going to come and let her go, and unless her friends knew where this place was, she was going to have to get herself out of this one.

Examining the shackles with the little light provided to her proved to be a trial in and of itself. Whoever strung her up made sure that moving around would be barely possible. She had absolutely no give from the chains on her feet and the chains on her wrists only allowed her arms to move just above her head. And it appeared you needed a key to get them off. Whoever dressed her also happened to let her hair down from its characteristic ponytail which meant all of her bobby pins were gone. Quickly running out of options, she looks around the room again.

"I suppose I could scream until someone came." Shaking her head, she discards that idea. She growls out in frustration. "There's got to be a way to get out of here."

A bong sounds in the distance, making Ivy jump from the unexpected sound. She recognizes it as the town clock tower. Her eyes dart towards the archways above the opposite wall where she can see the night sky. She counts out each bong under her breath. "Twelve. It's midnight. My friends must be worried sick."

A wind comes breezing in through the open archways, causing the fires to flicker. Suddenly, the shadows get thicker around the room. Adjusting a little bit in discomfort, Ivy's eyes dart around the room. _'This is silly. There is nothing out there that can hurt me. There is _not_ a vengeful god looking for a human female dinner.'_ However, no matter what she tells herself, she can't help but feel paranoid. The hair rising on the back of her neck doesn't help in the slightest.

She glances around the room once again. Only this time, there appears to be eyes reflecting back at her beside the farthest column. Eyes widening, she can't help but stare back at them. They are unblinking. A low growl rips through the air and Ivy gasps. The eyes move forward to reveal the biggest wolf she had ever laid eyes on. Its shoulder easily reached the top of the altar she was laid out on, which had to be at least five feet up off the platform she was on, which was at least another three feet up. It had a huge maw of a mouth that was contorted into a snarl. Its black fur was matted and its hackles were raised. It slowly stalked closer toward her and she tugged against the shackles. She desperately wanted to run, but knew that she would never be able to. Tears of fright slip down her face as she continues to watch the creature creep closer to her, a growl constantly rippling through the air.

A scream was caught in her throat. She desperately wanted to let it out, but she was too scared to move. _'This is it. This is how I die, and no one will even know.'_

"Fenrir," comes a deep voice from within the shadows. The wolf immediately relaxes and backs off to come to rest where it started. It lays down but never takes its eyes from Ivy. It takes all of her willpower to tear her gaze from that massive beast and look for the voice that came out of nowhere. Another set of eyes shine out next to the wolf, only these held a great amount of amusement. Her eyes lock onto the green orbs. "Well well, who is this that comes calling to our home?" the voice says.

'_I hope that's a rhetorical question because I don't think my voice is going to work.'_ A deep laugh rings out into the room. Ivy continues to stare at the man's eyes with a wide-eyed look of her own.

"I suppose I should properly introduce myself," he says, finally moving forward and into the light. His eyes dim a bit now that he is in the light, but they are framed by a gorgeous face. It's all sharp angles—high and pronounced cheekbones, straight nose, and a sharp, pointed chin— and yet it is able to hold a certain youthfulness to it. A playful smirk is twisted on his full lips. Black hair that comes to his shoulders frames his face, and yet is kept neatly behind his ears. He is tall, at least a foot taller than Ivy. He wears green and black armor with just a hint of gold. Only his hands, neck, and face are uncovered. "My name is Loki, of Asgard." Giving a sweeping bow, he looks up and gives her a smirk.

"What," is the only thing Ivy is able to say. She is having a very hard time comprehending what is going on.

Loki's smirk gives way to a full smile. "You know, after someone introduces themselves, it is proper to also give an introduction." At her blank face, he rolls his eyes. "I may be a god, but I'm not omniscient. What is your name?"

"Ivy," she croaks out. _'This is just too weird.'_ She glances back at the wolf still lying on the floor behind him. He may be a sudden distraction, but she is not going to forget about the giant animal with the razor sharp claws and teeth sitting just behind him.

Noticing her shifting focus, he also glances back at the wolf. "That is Fenrir. Don't mind him. He tends to get a little uneasy when a mortal comes into our home." Regaining her attention, Loki gives her his complete attention. "So explain. Why _are_ you in our humble home?"

"This is your home?" Ivy asks, not quite keeping up with these events.

He laughs softly. "It is not my permanent address, if that is what you are thinking." Walking a bit closer, he takes a closer look at her. She squirms a bit at his searching gaze. "However, it seems you are not visiting us willingly. How did you come by this place?"

Ivy swallows in an attempt to get moisture back into her throat in order to speak. If this guy really is a god, then it would probably be best to answer him. Even if he wasn't, it still would be best to answer him, just to keep her life a little bit longer. "I'm assuming I was dragged here, considering I only woke up here maybe an hour ago."

Quirking an eyebrow, Loki closes the distance even more. "And why were you dragged here?" Ivy shrugs, not really wanting to answer. "Oh, come now. I know you know. I wouldn't have shown myself if you had not figured it out."

Sighing quietly, Ivy averts her gaze and raises it to the ceiling above her. "The locals believe that you are destroying their crops. And now there is a disease ravaging their cattle. They believe if they gave you a sacrifice it would make the disease go away."

"Hm, yes. That has been what these mortals have thought for centuries." His voice is even closer to her now. However, she refuses to look at him to see him creep closer. "It is curious though, that they chose you."

Ivy rolls her eyes. "They chose me so they wouldn't have to give up one of their own daughters. Better an outsider that no one cares about."

"I suppose you are correct." His voice comes from right next to her. She can see him standing by her shackled hands just out of the corner of her eye. A finger traces up her arm, leaving goose bumps in its wake. "However, there are other reasons for why they chose you. One of them being that none of the other girls are—how do I put this delicately?—pure. Well, not as pure as they should be at their age." He chuckles softly, moving around the head of the altar to the other side, still trailing a finger down her arm.

"And I am?" Ivy asks, trying her best to ignore the sensation rippling down her arm. It's a little unnerving.

"Well, you are virgin, yes?" he asks, quite bluntly in Ivy's opinion. The blush that rushes up her cheeks is all the answer he needs. He laughs again before coming to a stop right beside her head. Grabbing her chin softly, he pulls it so she is looking at him once more. "That is where the villagers are wrong, and always have been. Virgins are to be treasured, not given up as sacrifice to appease an angry god." He wipes his thumb on her cheeks, removing the residue of her tears from before. "It is a very barbaric way of thinking."

Ivy just stares at him, not quite sure what to make of that. "So, you're not going to kill me?"

"Why would I want to do that?" Loki takes a step back, and moves back to the other side of the altar.

Ivy's gaze doesn't leave him this time. "The villagers seemed so convinced that you needed something in order to sooth your temper."

He snorts. "The villagers only care about getting a proper crop. Besides, they are appealing to the wrong god. I do not care about what happens to a crop or to a herd of cattle. And even if I did, I would never lay a finger on a young maiden, such as yourself."

Suddenly, there is a loud clink from above Ivy's head. She looks up and sees the shackles have sprung loose. She immediately frees her hands and sits up, rubbing her wrists to get the feeling back into them. She looks back over to Loki who is watching her with a distant look on his face.

"In fact, I find it rude and callous that they would believe I would do such a thing." At Ivy's confused glance, he gives a small secretive smile. Coming over to her once more, he removes the cape attached to his shoulders and drapes it over her own. "I'd recommend keeping this on. It will get colder tonight."

Loki turns his back and walks down the steps. "Wait! Where are you going?" Ivy yells, panic rising again at the thought of him leaving her behind.

Loki stops and turns back. "Those shackles will spring loose at dawn. Until then, remain here. Fenrir will guard you until then."

"But where are _you_ going?"

A gleam enters his eyes and a downright evil smirk twists his mouth. "I said I would never lay a finger on you. I, however, cannot promise them the same mercy." And with that, Loki disappeared from Ivy's sight. Fenrir the giant wolf stood up and ambled its way over to Ivy, looking downright playful. The wolf's entire demeanor had changed: instead of the intimidating beast from before, now it was an obedient little puppy. Taking a seat in front of the altar, he lied down, blocking any possible escape Ivy could have made if she was free to move.

With no other choice, Ivy laid back down on the altar, Loki's cape wrapped around her. She was still having a hard time believing what had just happened. Maybe she was just hallucinating, or having a very weird dream? Recalling the events, she promptly fell asleep, with Fenrir watching.

The next time she opened her eyes, the sun was shining through the arches, lighting up behind her eyelids. Groaning at the intrusion, she opened her eyes and sat up. Looking around, she was still in the temple. However, there was no sign of the giant wolf or the god that had come visiting last night. _'Maybe it had all been just a bad dream?' _Both the torches on either side of the mural were out. In the sunlight, the mural looked a little more decayed than it did in the torchlight.

Hopping down from the altar, Ivy made her way outside. The temple was on a hilltop, looking down over the village. There were so many trees, though, she could only see the rooftops and the top of the clock tower, which said it was eight. The trek back to the village only took twenty minutes, in which she convinced herself that last night was nothing more than a dream.

However, when entering the village, something felt off. It wasn't until she reached the center of town that she realized that everyone was missing; no one was out milling about. Walking into the inn, she ran upstairs, calling for her friends. Both were asleep. Leaving them, she walked around the rest of the bed and breakfast, looking for the owners. They were nowhere in the little house.

She walked back outside and walked across the street to the baker's shop. It wasn't open. Neither was the butcher's or the convenience store or the antique store. No matter where she went, there was absolutely nobody there.

After about an hour exploring the village trying to find anyone, Kelly and Kristen come running up to her, both carrying their bags and hers in between them. "Ivy! Where have you been?"

"Yeah, you've been gone all night! Totally figured you were shacking up with that hottie you were flirting with last night."

"I was not shacking up with some guy!" A little affronted at the accusation, Ivy snatches her bags from her friends.

"Hey," Kristen starts, glancing around them. "Where is everyone?"

"That's what I've been trying to figure out," Ivy responds. "I can't find anyone."

"Maybe there is something going on outside of the town?" Kelly suggests, shrugging. However, she is busy texting someone, so it is apparent she doesn't really care about where the villagers have disappeared to.

"Yeah, that's probably it," Ivy says after giving it a moment of thought. That would make sense. Feeling completely unnerved by the silence though, Ivy starts walking towards the town border. "Let's get out of here." The girls follow without question.

It wasn't until they had left the small village far behind them that Ivy realized she was still wearing Loki's cape.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, I couldn't leave this well enough alone. Ivy was knocking on my mind telling me that she wasn't done yet, so I agreed and started writing this again. I'm not sure if this is going to go anywhere farther than this chapter, but keep an eye out in case I do continue it. **

**Anyway, on with the show! Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Loki. I simply like to borrow him and manipulate him in my mind's universe. :D **

A young woman storms into her apartment around ten at night, immediately locking and dead-bolting the door. Security in place, she leans her back against the door and slides down until she is sitting on her butt, knees drawn up to her chest. She slowly leans down to unbuckle her heels and throw them across the room. Head flopping down onto her knees, she laments the awful day she had just endured.

First of all, she woke up late for her new job. Fresh out of college, this job working at a newspaper was her first one and being late once within the first month would probably not leave a good impression on her superiors. Rushing around her one-bedroom apartment, she manages to get through her morning routine and collect all of her items before running out the door. Then her car took fifteen minutes to start. Then traffic was horrendous. And there was no parking anywhere near her building. By the time she could get to work, she was an hour late.

Luckily, her new boss is fairly lenient and let her go with a warning. With that wonderful start to her day, Ivy spent the rest of the day going over current articles and editing them for length, spelling, and grammar. The tedious work is always dumped on the newbies. She got into arguments with a couple of the writers over cutting their work down. One yelled at her so bad about it that she had to retire to the bathroom to collect herself. Lunch was no better. She realized that she forgot her lunch in her mad rush to leave and she was broke until her next paycheck. That afternoon was paper pushing and copying for her boss on an empty stomach, making it feel like her day was just dragging.

Her only upside was that it was Friday. Every Friday she would go to the city's library and check out one book for the week. Anything to get her mind off of the current events and horrible things that was going on around her. It was her one indulgence and she treasured it.

The library was only a few blocks away from the newspaper, so she made the short walk in fifteen minutes. Returning the one book she had borrowed for the week, she began her perusal of the many bookshelves lining the expansive building. There were just so many choices, she couldn't decide on just one. _'I need to start figuring this out before I come here,' _she thinks while staring at the choices for Jane Austen. After a couple hours, she decides on a John Green book. She has heard many wonderful things about this new author and wanted to give him a try.

By the time she left the library, it was already seven-thirty and twilight was disappearing. Streetlights speckled the streets, pooling the sidewalks with intermittent light as she walked purposely in the direction of her car. When she was about halfway there, she heard heavy footsteps echoing behind her. The hair raised on the back of her neck. She turned her head just slightly to see a burly dark man shadowing her footsteps only a few feet behind her. Feeling more nervous, she clutched her keys in her hand and continued walking, only a little bit faster. Before she could reach the parking garage, hands grabbed her from behind, one hand covering her mouth so she couldn't scream out, and dragged her into the alley.

Her captor slammed her into the brick wall, pinning her there with a knife to her throat. One hand was still covering her mouth. She dropped her keys due to the shock of her back hitting the brick. Frozen, she stared wide-eyed at the man, too afraid to move.

"Here's how this is going to work," he whispers savagely, the reek of alcohol making her want to gag. "You're gonna hand over that pretty purse of yours, hike up that skirt, and I'll show you a good time. And if you're a good fuck, maybe I'll let you go." He smiled. "And if you so much as scream, I'll slit this pretty throat of yours. Understand?"

His hand traveled from her mouth toward the strap of her purse. Ivy let it go easily. Her life is not worth the meager amount of money in that bag. She stayed silent, not giving him a chance to use his weapon. The straps slid easily off her arm and he dropped it behind him, never taking his eyes from her scared and frozen form. Grabbing her roughly by the arm, he dragged her deeper into the dark alley. Pocketing the knife, he grabbed hold of her neck and started wrestling with his belt with his now free hand. "Now, do as I said, you little whore. Hike up that skirt."

Ivy refused to move. '_He may plan on raping me, but it doesn't mean I have to make it easy for him.'_ Seeing her defiant refusal, he backhands her hard enough to land her on the ground. She held a hand up to her cheek, feeling the sting of the blow. A few tears slipped from her eyes from the sheer pain of the hit. She looked back up just in time to see him stalk towards her.

"_Not a smart thing to do."_

Ivy looked up and around. That was a different voice. One she vaguely recognized. _'But from where?'_ Her assailant also looked around in surprise and bewilderment. "Who's there?" he cried out, turning to look towards the entrance of the alley. "Show yourself!"

Standing up, Ivy prepared herself to run for it. If anything, this person is being the perfect distraction so she can get away. All she would need to do is grab her keys and get to her car faster than the thief could catch her. She may not have been the best in shape, but Ivy could still run.

Before she could implement this plan, the man turned around and faced her again. His knife was back in his hand. She froze. He smirked at her. Before he could talk, she rushed him, managing to get him to back up. However, before she could pivot herself around him and run like hell, he got a hold of her arm and threw her against the wall. She heard the crack of her head hitting the brick more than she felt it. She crumpled to the ground in a stunned heap.

She forced herself to sit up in order to protect herself from the now advancing man. However, before she could so much as lift a hand, he was quickly pulled back into the shadows, as if a bungee was attached to his middle, a cry of surprise leaving his mouth. After that, silence.

Sitting in a small daze, Ivy blinked and tried to catch her breath. She waited five minutes before finally standing up. The alley swam before her vision but settled after a few seconds. She walked over to her belongings, picked them up, and made a beeline for her car. Once inside, she locked all the doors and rested her head against the steering wheel. Now that the shock had time to wear off slightly, the shaking settled in. She turned on the car to allow the heat to run and envelope the car. She refused to cry.

She sat there for ten minutes, waiting for the shaking to subside and to make sure she didn't have a serious head injury. Once her shaking was down to a small level, she put the car in reverse and drove home in the darkness.

Picking herself up off the floor, she heads into her small kitchen and makes herself a small bowl of cereal. While her stomach is churning she still needs to eat something. She walks aimlessly around her apartment, filled with too much nervous energy to be still. She walks to all of her windows to make sure they are locked and rechecks the door at least three times. Finally finished with her meager dinner, she walks into the bathroom and takes a hot shower. The bump on the back of her head is throbbing and any touch to it causes her to wince in pain. She throws on a pair of sweatpants and a green t-shirt before examining the damage to her face. His hand left a red mark that is sure to darken as the night progresses. It is tender to the touch and she winces at the thought of how bad it's going to look.

Taking a seat on her cheap sofa, she turns on the television and pulls out the silky material of what can only be described as a cape that was lying across the back of the armchair. She doesn't remember how she got this odd article of clothing. She knows it was when her and her high school friends went to Europe. However, she doesn't remember where in Europe or how she came by it. Or why in the world she would even buy it. However, out of all that she bought over there, this one thing has given her the most comfort over the years.

Better than any blanket, the odd green material always came out when she was feeling stressed or scared. Over the course of the past five years, it helped to make her feel safe and secure when her life was going crazy. She doesn't understand why such a thing could make her feel that way, it just does. And right now, she really needs that feeling or she would probably go insane.

Wrapping the silky material around her shoulders, she curls up into a ball and watches the television mindlessly, her thoughts straying to other matters. Before long, she dozed off to the sound of studio laughter and the feel of the warm material around her.

"Hm, I'm glad to see you took good care over my cape."

Jerking herself awake, Ivy glances around the dark room. She has her TV set so that it will shut off at midnight. She has a tendency to fall asleep while watching it and it's better not to waste electricity. Glancing around the pitch black room, nothing appears to be out of place._ 'I could have sworn I heard someone just now.'_

Standing up, she secures the cape around her and heads toward the hallway leading to her bedroom. However, there is a pinching feeling just between her shoulder blades and she gets a distinctive feeling that she is being watched. Stopping in her tracks, she turns back around and observes the room one more time. Her eyes immediately land on a figure that is sitting in her chair, looking for all the world like it's a throne. His green eyes shine in the darkness, much like a cat's would. A car passes outside, it's lights trailing across the room, showing off his smirk and black and green armor.

Her eyes dart towards her door. It's still locked. None of the windows are open, either. _'How the hell did he get in?'_ she thinks, eyes darting back to the strange man sitting in her armchair. She doesn't feel threatened by this man, however. Any normal person would be freaking out over a strange man in their apartment. Ivy doesn't feel the need to do that. He seems… familiar somehow.

She watches as he stands from the chair gracefully, still smirking, and bows to her. She clutches the cape a little bit tighter to her chest. _'Why did that look so familiar?'_ Standing fully, he is about a full head taller than she is. She quietly looks up at him. He seems out of place in her cramped apartment. He should be in places much bigger than this… much older…

With a sudden flash she remembers. "Oh my god, Loki," she gasps, eyes widening.

"Do not tell me I was that easy to forget," he quips, chuckling slightly.

All she can do is blink at him. _'This feels oddly familiar,'_ she thinks, trying to recollect her wits. She remembers her time spent in that small German village and her clandestine meeting with the god. She had thoroughly convinced herself that it was nothing but a dream that she had almost completely forgotten the encounter. She probably would have if it wasn't for the cape resting around her shoulders. He watches her with calculating eyes while she pulls all of her forgotten memories to the forefront of her mind.

"Apparently I _was_ that easy to forget," his says, his smile waning.

"Not intentionally," she replies, quick to avert her eyes in mild shame. She feels guilty for forgetting their brief encounter. It shouldn't have been so easy. But, in the light of day, it does seem too fantastic to be real. A Norse god actually in the flesh, offering help when she had been kidnapped and left for dead.

"How long has it been?" he asks suddenly, glancing around her tiny apartment in mild curiosity. He walks around the room, picking up some of her things to get a better look at them.

"Almost five years," she whispers, still hardly believing that he is actually standing in front of her.

"Longer than I intended," he mumbles to himself, still mindlessly wandering. "It is a good thing I chose tonight to come see you again." He glances over to her. "Tell me, what was your plan for fighting off that man in the alley?"

Her eyes widened. "That was you?" she questioned.

"Of course it was me. Who else would it have been?"

'_He has a point._' "What did you do that man?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"I gave him a frozen hell," he responds, a wicked smile tracing his lips. She gets the distinct sensation she does _not_ want to know the details of what he did to that man.

Cocking her head to the side, she asks, "Why?"

Putting down one of the picture frames he had been viewing, he walks over to her. "For this," he says, cupping her cheek. "And for this." He places his other hand on the back of her head. His hands are cool to the touch and feel good against her raw injuries. "No one is to harm you and get away with it."

Her eyebrows come together in confusion. "Why?" she asks again.

Releasing his hold on her, he picks up a stray end of the fabric still clutched to her chest. "The night that I gave you this, I sealed an oath of protection with Fenrir as my witness." His green eyes meet with her confused hazel ones. "I could have easily let you go without showing myself to you. Waited for you to drift back asleep and released the shackles. But something about you intrigued me. Gods no longer show themselves to mortals because you no longer believe. However, you were different." His gaze travels across her body. A blush stains her cheeks at his obvious perusal. "You have grown much in these five years."

"Why was I different?" she questions, blatantly ignoring his last comment.

Taking a step back, he gives the question some thought. "Even though you were seventeen, an adult by many people's standards, you were very innocent. It was plain that you had never done any wrong, never gone through horrible hardship. It was…" he pauses, searching for the right word. "Refreshing."

"So," she starts, trying to make sense of this whole thing. "You decided to show yourself to me?"

"Correct."

"And with that, you gave me your protection."

He nods.

"So, why are you here now? Besides the obvious incident of protecting me from that creep, there's no reason for you to be here now."

His smirk returns to his face. "I came to collect my cape."

Her eyes widened at the implication. He wanted to take away her prized possession. She doesn't have many of those left. And this one actually makes her feel safe. Why would he want to do that? She takes a step back and shakes her head slowly. There is no way she was going to let him take this back. The way she saw it, he gave it to her as a gift, so there is no reason for her to relinquish it to him again.

Loki simply follows her retreating steps until she is backed against the wall. He lifts her chin so that her eyes will meet his. "If you give it to me, I will give you a much sweeter prize in its stead."

"And what would that be?"

His smirk grows into a smile. "Me."

"What?" she says, deadpan. She cannot believe what he just said that to her. Seriously?_ 'What does he take me for? A concubine?'_

Smirking at her obvious discomfort, he backs up to the center of the room. She pins him with a glare. "While your offer is… flattering, I'm afraid I have to decline," she finally says after a moment's thought.

"But you didn't hear my full offer," he replies, mock hurt in his voice.

"I don't have to," she says, unwrapping the cape from her shoulders and holding it in her hands. She keeps her eyes on it. She really doesn't want to give it up, but if it will get him to leave, then she will. Some things are not worth your freedom.

"I'm not asking you to become a slave, Ivy," he says quietly, capturing her attention again. She meets his eyes again, noticing the serious face with no hint of amusement. "I'm just asking to be a part of your life." He chuckles slightly. "If anything, I'm asking to be your slave."

"Why?" she asks, genuinely confused. "I'm nothing more than a human woman. Don't you have immortal friends or something like that to hang out with?"

He smiles, but it's a sad smile. "I have done too many horrible things for me to have friends up there." He shrugs. "And I am not looking for a friend. I am looking for a companion."

"What makes you think I can be a good companion?"

"Because even after five years, you are still quite innocent. There are shadows in your eyes now that tell me you have been through heartbreak and loss, but they still shine with purity. That is a rare thing, Ivy." He sighs, looking around the small room once again. Once he meets her eyes, all of his age shines through them. He may appear to be young, but the eyes of an old man lay hidden behind the playful smile of the trickster, belying the centuries he has lived.

Ivy looks away, not sure how to handle the pure emotion he is allowing her to see. She glances down at the green material held within her hands. She doesn't know what to do.

"I can't leave here," she finally whispers, breaking the somewhat tense silence. "I still have to pay off all my debt and someone needs to take care of my dad now that he is alone." She meets his eyes again. "I still have so much to do. And what would people think if I just up and left?"

He cocks his head to the side in confusion, much like an animal would. Ivy can't help but think of Fenrir, as the giant wolf would probably do the same thing. "Who said anything about you leaving?"

"Huh?" is her articulate response.

He smiles again and shakes his head. "Apparently there was some misunderstanding. You do not have to leave here. In fact, I want you to remain here, with your people." He shrugs. "I would come and go as I please."

Sighing in relief, Ivy walks around the tall god and takes a seat on the sofa. "So, do you want to explain to me exactly what you are proposing?"

Returning to his seat in the armchair, he turns so he can better see her. "I simply propose to be a figure in your life for as long as you wish me to. You would not need to change your daily activities or your location—" he smirks at her at this—"I will come when you need it. And I only ask for your company in return."

"So, this is purely platonic, right?" she asks, somewhat cautiously, afraid to give him any ideas. She wants to be completely sure of every aspect of this arrangement he is proposing to her.

"Only if you wish it to be," he chuckles. She rolls her eyes at him. _'He may be a god, but he is still male.'_

Lowering her head, she gives the proposal some thought. It would be nice, having him around. Ever since her parents split, she was forced to become the only support for her lonely father. Everything got much worse when he got sick. Due to the time it took for her to take care of him, she lost most of her friends. She hasn't spoken to Kelly and Kristen in three years. She can only claim a few people as her friends, as they have the patience and understanding of saints. And how many people can say that they knew a powerful god personally?

Taking a critical look at her life, it is painfully obvious just how lonely it is.

Raising her head once again, she stands up and moves so she is in front of the reclining god. She holds out her hand. "I agree," she says simply, waiting patiently for his response.

He also stands, clasping her hand in a cool one of his own. "I am glad."

Ivy was mildly disappointed over the blandness of the deal. She was kind of expecting thunder, or light flashes, or something more dramatic than a simple handshake. _'It's probably a good thing that it didn't though.'_

"If I may?" Loki says, gesturing to the cape that is still clutched in her fingers. He holds out his hand for it. Very reluctantly, she gives it to him, allowing the smooth material to fall through her hands as he pulls it from her grasp. She immediately misses its weight. He reattaches it to his shoulders, letting it sway down to his ankles.

Leaning forward, he gives her a small kiss on her cheek. She closes her eyes when his lips make contact. "I will leave you now," he whispers against her skin, lingering only a moment longer.

When she reopens her eyes, he's gone. She places a hand against her cheek, kind of stunned at the display. All of her remaining tension leaves her in a quick rush and the days' events weigh down on her. Quietly missing her odd blanket, she trudges to her room and falls asleep shortly thereafter.

Waking up later that morning, she sits up and looks around her bland room in the light of day. She doesn't know how to process what happened to her the night before. _'Was it just another weird dream?'_ Slowly climbing out of bed, she makes her way to the bathroom. All of her doubts leave in a quick rush.

Her bruise is gone.

Feeling the back of her head, there is no sting of pain. Marveling at the sudden healing, she can't help but poke at her cheek, waiting to feel the standard pain. Nothing.

Shaking her head, she walks back to her room, smiling as soon as she enters. Loki's cape is lying on her bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I haz story! It only took me three and a half hours to plan it all out, but I have an actual story for this! A one-shot being upgraded to a full story, wow. I don't know how long this going to become, but we shall see. Want to give you all a quick warning, this is not going to be the Marvel universe: this is going to rely heavily on Norse myths and those stories. I'm going to stick with the ones that are more commonly known (as I am no expert) but keep this in mind in case I mention something confusing. Or just feel free to ask! This also means that if Loki does some things that seem un-Loki-ish, that's why. I have artistic liberty. :D**

** I hope you all enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I only own Ivy and this plot. **

Chapter 3

Ivy sighs as she walks through the automatic doors into the hushed cool air of the front lobby. She walks straight past the front desk and takes the elevator up to the fifth floor. She is very familiar of the route by now. Hearing the ding of the elevator, she steps out into the white corridor and heads toward room 518, greeting different nurses as she walks past them. She knocks quietly against the doorframe and walks into the private room. "Hey, Dad," she says quietly, stepping into the room.

The man looks up from the newspaper and smiles tiredly at her. "Hello, sweetie," he greets, setting the paper down against his lap. "You're here earlier than usual."

She shrugs. "I knew you had another round of chemo today and I wanted to be here for you."

He laughs. "I can always count on you, can't I?"

She smiles. Somehow, her father is still able to smile. The fifty-one-year-old man is still somehow managing to exude an air of youth even though his treatments have aged him almost ten years. His now bald head once held chestnut locks that mirrored the color of Ivy's own hair. His blue eyes have many laugh lines around them, but now they just look tired. All of his lines that were only just coming in four years ago are now deeper than ever. Ivy can't help but hate what this illness has done to her once-spry and fit father. If she could, she would go in there and fight every single last cancer cell until they begged for mercy. But no. She has to sit here and watch as it slowly saps her father of his strength and destroys her small world with every passing day.

Ivy takes a seat in the hard plastic chair next to the bed. "So, what time did you go in?"

"Eight," he responds, turning his attention back to the paper. He folds it so the crossword is facing up. Ivy stands and moves the makeshift table so that it will rest under his hands. "Thank you, sweetie," he says, kissing her cheek while she was bent over him. "Care to help me with this today?" He winks conspiratorially at her.

"Daddy, you know that I don't know any of the answers to that," she says, poking him playfully in the arm.

"You would think working at this newspaper would give you insider secrets," he sighs, shaking his head.

"The crossword makers keep the answers pretty close to their chests," Ivy giggles. "But I'll try and help you with it anyway."

Pulling out his ball-point pen, he poises it over the paper and they settle in for the struggle, Ivy taking a seat on the other half of the bed. This has become their ritual. When her father was permanently checked into the hospital, Ivy would come at least three times a week to check in on him and make sure the staff was treating him well. She spent almost a year taking care of him herself, so to be suddenly free of that responsibility was hard on her. Now that she has a permanent job, it was harder for her to come in. But she still comes every weekend and they both sit and try to complete the complex puzzle of that week. And every week he would ask her if she knew the answers, which she never did.

After about an hour filled with questions, answers, and exclamations of confusion, her father puts down the puzzle and grabs her hand. "So tell me, how is this new job going? I feel like I hardly see you anymore. Are they driving you into the ground with work?"

Laughing quietly, she squeezes his hand. "No, they aren't trying to kill me. They are keeping me busy though. I've only been there three months, but I still have a lot to learn about the newspaper business."

"Have you been able to write any articles yet? I get your paper every week hoping to find your name somewhere."

She sighs. "No, not yet. I'm still stuck doing the grunge work." She smiles though. "My editor said that if I keep up the good work that he might send me on an assignment. So, I'm hoping it will pick up soon."

"That's great, sweetie!" He pats her hand with her free one. "A little hard work and you'll be where you want to be."

She nods. A twinge of guilt hits her. While her editor did tell her that, what she neglected to tell her father was that he also mentioned it wouldn't happen for quite some time. Maybe not even that year. While she is able to adequately edit an article for length and punctuation, he still feels that she is too weak-willed to be able to handle herself in an investigative situation. And she can't help but agree with him. She always lies down and takes the verbal beatings some of the other writers give her when she has to cut their articles short. She only does it though because she doesn't want to cause waves and conflict in the office. Not to mention she wasn't aware that she could stand up for herself until her editor told her only a week before.

She looks out the clear window and stares up into the mid-August sky. She can practically see the heat pressing in against the glass. She decided the other day that she would no longer take the abuse lying down anymore. It's caused far too much grief and stress in her life since she started. So when one of the writers was gearing himself up to yell at her, she beat him to the punch. Quietly and without raising her voice, she told the man that if he didn't want her to cut out key pieces of his article than he would have to learn how to be more concise with the space he is allotted. And considering he had been at the paper for almost fifteen years, didn't he know how to do that already?

The man quickly shut his mouth. Ivy smiles at the memory. While she isn't one for conflict, it felt good to finally tell someone to back off without actually telling them to. She's not versed in the ways of diplomacy, but she feels like she has a good start.

"Ivy," her father mumbles, immediately grabbing her entire attention, "we need to talk."

"What about, Daddy?"

He turns his head and pins her with a serious look. She gulps. She has an idea she knows where this is going, and she doesn't want to talk about it yet. She turns her head away from him and stares at the floor by the doorway. _'Maybe if I ignore him, he won't bring it up?'_

"Ivy," he repeats sternly. She winces and turns her head to meet his eyes again. "It's time."

"I really don't want to talk about this, Daddy."

"We have to." He squeezes her hand again. "We both know this was a long shot when I was diagnosed. I need to know that you are going to be ready."

"You sound like you're giving up," she says accusingly, giving him an accusatory glare.

"I am doing no such thing. But it doesn't mean we can't prepare in case something happens." He places his other hand on top of their clasped ones. "You need to be prepared."

"I am prepared, Dad."

"Oh really?" he questions. "Which funeral home would you contact? When would the funeral be? Are you going to cremate me or bury me? What are you going to do with my things and the car? Well?"

Ivy rips her hands out of his grasp and gets out of the bed. "Why are you doing this?" she asks quietly, pacing the room. She doesn't want to think about it. She has put off planning and preparing for his potential death for a year and a half. So far, it's worked out just fine.

"Ivy, I'm not getting any better."

She still refuses to meet his eyes. "The doctor says the treatment could take hold at any time. We just have to stay positive and keep fighting."

"Ivy, look at me." She reluctantly meets his stern gaze with sad eyes. Seeing her eyes brimming with tears, his face softens. "We still need to discuss this. Stubbornness will not make the facts disappear."

She sniffs and nods, trying to will her tears away. She feels bad for allowing her father to see her pain. She has always been very careful to keep it hidden away so he would never know just how broken she was over this. She didn't want to make him feel guilty or worry over her. But, it seems he is worried about her anyway. She calmly walks back over to the bed and climbs back in, careful of all the tubes and wires keeping him connected to the machinery.

"Now," he starts, clasping her hand again. "I have some money saved in my bank. Your name is on the account so you can get to that money. The first thing you need to do is get it and start paying for the medical bills, okay? It's not much, but it will help. My life insurance should be able to cover the funeral costs and the rest of the medical. Unfortunately, there won't be enough to give back to you to help with your loans—"

"And you know that's not your responsibility," she says, cutting him off. "Those loans are for me to pay off, not you."

"I still wish I could help." He shakes his head before continuing. "Make sure to sell whatever is left in that apartment. Unless you want to keep anything, but that is up to you."

She nods. There might be a few things that she would keep, like his antique pocket watch and globe, but other than that, nothing. She was thinking about donating the majority of that stuff anyway, seeing how none of it is valuable. She might be able to get a few hundred dollars from his old clunker of a car. That would be the only valuable thing he still owned.

"Now, about the funeral…"He trails off, giving it some thought.

"I know you want to be buried next to Grandma," she mumbles, not really wanting to think about it. If her dad does pass, that means two of her precious people will be claimed by that cemetery. There's a sudden burst of irrational anger at that place, for holding onto her family, even if only one is there right now.

He smiles. "Yes, I do." He pauses. "You do realize you're going to have to deal with your mother, right?"

Ivy grimaces. She has never had a good relationship with her mom, especially after the divorce. Her mom made sure to suck out as much money as she could out of her dad and Ivy is still convinced that is why he got so sick. While Ivy would handle all of the funeral details, her mother would still attend, if only to try and tarnish his name some more.

She really didn't want anything to do with her mom anymore.

"Ivy," he says, capturing her attention again. "Are you going to be okay? You have people, friends, right?"

She blinks for a moment. Only a couple names pop into her head. She really did throw all of her time and attention into taking care of her father. She lost almost all of her friends. The two that she could think of—Ashley and Connor—were college friends that had the same major as hers. They became fast friends during her second year. They were also the only ones that were completely supportive and understanding when her parents divorced and when her dad got sick. They listened to her bitch and moan about her mom and held her as she cried over her dad. However, they live on the other side of the state now. She hardly ever sees them. And she would feel too much like a burden if she were to call them now.

With a quick flash, she remembers the deal she made two months ago. Granted, she hasn't seen Loki in all that time, but that doesn't mean he won't show up. A small part of her wishes that he would, if only so she won't feel quite so lonely anymore. Finally meeting her father's eyes, she nods with as much conviction as she can muster. "I've got some friends that I can call. And I have made a new friend. He doesn't live close by, but he does stop in town every once in a while to visit me."

"Oh?" he asks, eyebrow raising in curiosity. "He?"

She rolls her eyes. "Oh please, Dad. He's just a friend."

"They always start out that way."

She smiles. "Don't tell me you're about to go all overprotective father on me."

"Hey, I haven't been able to do that since your prom, give an old man his ounce of pleasure."

She laughs. After she went to college, dating moved to the bottom of her priority list, much to the chagrin of her mother and the pleasure of her father. Now that she's out of college, she's hoping to start dating again, if only to put herself out there more. The only problem is she no longer knows how to do that, and with her closest girlfriend five hours away, it's even more difficult.

"Oh, Ms. Brent, good to see you," a new voice says. Ivy turns her head to watch the doctor walk in the room, clipboard in hand and a smile on his face.

"Dr. Sartorius," she greets, smiling also. "Good to see you too." She moves off the bed and takes a seat in the chair. She watches closely as the doctor moves around her father's bed, taking his vitals and asking him various questions, all very routine and familiar.

"Well, Mr. Brent, everything looks to be in order for now. Other than the nausea, how are you feeling?"

"Tired."

The doctor smiles. "I'm sure. Why don't you get some rest and I'll come in and check on you in a little while?"

Ivy stands up and grabs her purse. "I guess I'll get going so you can rest, Dad. I have to get some errands done anyway."

Her father pouts before giving in. Ivy leans down to give him a kiss. Saying a farewell, she follows the doctor out of the room.

"Ms. Brent," Dr. Sartorius calls, catching her before she presses the elevator button. "May I have a quick word before you leave?"

"Of course. Is anything wrong, Doctor?"

He sighs, immediately setting off red flags for Ivy. "I figured you had a right to know. We just got the results back from his latest scan. The cancer is not reducing in size. It appears the treatment is not helping to reduce his cancer. In fact, it seems that it is growing and trying to spread."

Ivy's heart skips a beat. Swallowing thickly, she glances down to the ground, trying to prevent the tears from escaping her eyes. "How much longer does he have?"

"My guess is about three months, at the most." He places a hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry to have to tell you this."

"Does my father know?" she asks quietly.

"We informed him about an hour after his treatment when the tests came back."

Ivy nods. _'Of course Dad wouldn't tell me. And his sudden interest in getting things in order makes a lot more sense.'_ Looking back up, she meets the doctor's brown eyes. "Thank you, Doctor."

He nods. "Have a good rest of your day, Ms. Brent."

She nods, knowing that her day will do the exact opposite. She turns back to the elevator and heads to the garage level. Luckily, no one enters the elevator with her, allowing her time enough to compose herself. Wiping the wetness from her face, she walks to her car and gets in, leaning her head against the steering wheel for a few minutes. When they first found out about her dad's condition, the doctor's only gave him a few months to live. So far, he's lived a full year longer than they all thought he would. Maybe he can pull another miracle?

She pulls out of the garage, music blaring, trying to keep herself upbeat and positive. It doesn't work. She decides to skip the grocery shopping and trip to the bank and drives straight home. Once there, she changes into some sweats and crawls into bed. She pulls the green cape close to her chest and immediately allows herself the break-down she had been putting off since the day began.


End file.
